My ski gear has been packed away in a trunk for the summer. I officially transitioned over to summer sports a few weeks ago with a successful showing in the rainy Napa Valley Triathlon. Gear purchases have switched from goggles, jackets and skis / boots to swimming, biking, and running accessories, and my regular cast of athletic pals are those from my Olympia tri group; we have been gathering for great workouts, rides around Olympia, and some good beer, food and laughs.

Time on the bike or in the pool has provided the chance for ski season reflection. I racked up about 24 days skiing Canada, Utah, Washington and Oregon. I am proud of this number considering I’ve been dealing with death, unemployment, then employment and a new home.

Yes, almost every day had something that made it special. I made new ski friends this year, and I’m so happy I got to hit the slopes with Sam, Elliott, and July at one point or another throughout the season. I reconnected with old ski friends Caroline, Owen and Billy. I tried five new resorts this year. I strapped on cross country skis for the first time. I did my very first big, group ski trip which involved all the amenities that one expects from a big, group ski trip. I did apres West-Coast style. I skied in a pouring rain. I night skied for the first time since my days of racing back pre-1996. Oh yes, what a year!

Did I advance my skills? No. I think I became a worse skier this year. I didn’t ski any park. I didn’t ski any runs that scared the crap out of me. I didn’t do any backcountry. If you would have asked me a few months ago, pre-move, what I expected out of my first ski season back on the West Coast, these would have been on my list.

I think I only had about 4 total days which involved bottomless powder, or where I was left mentally and physically exhausted from nonstop laps. or days where I felt “on,” or a combination of these attributes. On a very personal level, those are the days that count. I am a girl that likes to push it. And skiing is my baby. It’s the sport at which I’m best. And to look back and see that I got worse at it? While back on my home turf? Well that hurts!

Where to go? This time last year I talked of retiring from my very short park obsession and focusing on other areas of skiing. I am, yet again, at a crossroads. Where do I want to take my skiing? If I am happy with status quo or slight improvement from this year, I’m in a place for making that happen. If the NW has better conditions I could end up ahead future years. And as I make more friends, backcountry will slowly become more accessible.

What if I’m not happy with this? Do I continue to chase a juvenile dream of continuing to further my skiing? I’m starting to wonder if to get beyond this plateau I must make a move even more radical than simply a return to the NW and move to somewhere like Park City, where skiing is 5 minutes away and a city that could support my career is 40 minutes away. Of course the repercussions of a move like that are large. Friends? Family? Job? Is skiing really more important than those?

We will see. There’s many cycles and swims ahead that provide time for further reflection. And it could be a great thing or a bad thing that my fellowship ends in February. I will admit there is a savings fund for a month of skiing post-job. It’s always been a ski vacation dream of mine to take a few weeks and follow the storms. I’d like February 2010 to be that. I have my suby, my gear, and me. It’d be wonderful to have someone to do it with, but a solo trip could be just as rewarding. Who knows… that month could turn into the next phase of life, or at least help me find the path.

And some other small notes…

I made a late season purchase of the Salomon Idols. They’re wicked! For the first five minutes they feel annoying, tight and stiff. But then something marvelous happens and the mold to my foot. Finally, after 9+ years of my old boots, I have new ones! Yay!

I had a last minute offer to compete in the Freeskiing Competition at K-Wood. It would have been a lot of money for little return. I am going to try and stay on top of sign-ups for next season and get in. I have no chance of doing anything special with this, but I’d feel pretty badass.

Elliott and I had an epic hike up the Muir Snowfield, 5 hours up, then a great ski down. Our legs were jello when we popped into the skis, but it was such a unique feeling to be flying down Mt. Rainier on skis. Swimming, biking, and running endurance does NOT transition over to snow hiking! It was exhausting hiking up! We stupidly forgot beer so we got back to the parking lot and had to make do with water. I think the lack of a calming, celebratory drink messed with our minds because we felt it necessary, on our drive down Rainier, to stop, strip down to undegarments and jump into a glacial stream. Incredibly cold, but so very refreshing!

The Pandora has yet to be located.

In the 07/08 season I had my first taste of skiing out west, hitting up Park City twice and Lake Tahoe once. Instantly I knew there was no comparison to my home mountain in Vermont and that I needed to explore more of the resorts I’d seen featured every year in MSP and TGR films. So when last fall came around and we all started planning out our seasons, I told everyone my two priorities were Whistler and Jackson Hole. Having experienced Snowbird/Alta last year, these two meccas remained at the top of my list.

We all jumped on the Whistler trip planning early – in September – taking advantage of early season pricing and the weak Canadian dollar, putting together a big 7 day trip that involved road tripping from Seattle and staying in a sick ski in/ski out luxury condo on Blackcomb. My fellow CoGNers have chronicled this trip in earlier posts. Despite no fresh snow all week, we had a blast, and I’m sure we’ll be back again hopefully hitting it right.

For Jackson, I was able to recruit a couple buddies to join me on a four day, five night stay in Teton Village, March 5th – 10th. We flew in on a Thursday afternoon into Jackson Hole Airport which is quite small as you’d imagine, and sits in the middle of the Jackson Hole valley. Stepping off the plane and onto the tarmac, the Teton Range stands right in front of you, rising up immediately from the flat valley floor. I didn’t know it at the time but we were staring directly at the resort a few miles away with Rendezvous Peak straight ahead. I was really excited to finally be there, but as we rode 30 minutes in a cab to the resort, I was nervous. I noticed dry pavement, low snow banks, and relatively warm temps. I had been reading the snow reports and checking the NOAA seven day forecast every day for a month now and knew that the last couple weeks of February they had recieved consistent storms. I was praying we’d have the same luck in early March.

As it turned out, Jackson Hole (and much of the west) had received a brief warming spell in the four or so days before we landed. I knew there was tentative snow in the forecast for the weekend but I was worried that we wouldn’t get to experience the legendary Teton cool whip I’d heard so much about and seen featured The Big One, Lost & Found, Anomaly, etc. After settling into our room at the Inn at Jackson (which turned out to be a pretty solid choice), we briefly scouted out the village and hit up the Mangy Moose for a late lunch and beers. It started snowing hard just as we made that decision and my anxiety subsided as we sipped pints of Moose Drool (local beer, good, but kinda heavy) and watched the whiteout develop outside.

DAY 1
Friday would only raise my concerns about the weather for our trip despite the 5 inches reported by Lauren on the Jackson Snow Phone that morning (which has to be the best way to wake up). We took the tram to the top and dropped into Rendezvous Bowl where we encountered the freshies, but unfortunately it was on top of frozen crud leftover over from the melt the two prior days. The lower half of the mountain was much worse, which we learned the hard way as we decided to give the Hobacks a try. I quickly understood why the resort reports separate upper mountain and mid mountain snow depths. On this day the lower mountain snow couldn’t have been crustier, as the cold had returned but new snow really hadn’t. Fortunately around mid morning it started snowing. And it didn’t stop until the end of the following day.

That afternoon turned out to be completely different experience as the snow got better and better. Skiing off the gondola I was even able to find shin deep, untracked pow in the Woosley Woods off of Casper traverse. Things were starting to look a lot better. We skied a full day and went straight to the Mangy Moose, this time ordering pitchers of bud light (no offense to the Drool) and a big plate of nachos. The wait staff was quite helpful in finding us a table amidst the crowd, friendly, and nearly as attractive as the girls of Whistler’s Longhorn Saloon. Unfortunately we realized they were practically the only girls in Jackson.

DAY 2
The following morning (Saturday, March 7th) it was still snowing and I was pretty sure it would be our best day. It was about 8:40am (later than I wanted, but my roommates aren’t the earliest risers) when we got in line at the Gondola since the tram maze was packed. It had probably had been that way since 8 or earlier as the locals came out for pow. Fortunately we got pretty close to the front of the gondola’s singles line and as I looked around, I immediately felt like I was in the beginning of a ski movie. With the snow still falling, the line lengthening, and everyone just hanging out waiting for the 9am green light, the place was electric. I think I even saw a few red bulls get pounded. I told Aidan it’d be an epic day.

Untracked shin deep powder all the way to the Thunder Quad. It got even deeper in the tree runs underneath that chair, especially in Tower Three Chute which was an unexpected treat. Surprisingly no one had been through yet, and my Bridges didn’t touch bottom. Knee deep tree skiing and it was still puking out… this is why I came to Jackson. I hadn’t seen this much snow since my first trip out to Snowbird last year. Aidan and I quickly headed over to the Sublette chair to check out terrain we hadn’t seen yet. Alta Chutes (1, 2, and 3) turned out to be a series of steep and narrow chutes that were loaded with snow, bottomless for at least two laps. We spent most of the day on Sublette and Thunder and I started to realize the huckability of Jackson… Not only are there lots of cliff bands of varying sizes that become doable on powder days, but there are plenty of smaller boulders and pillows to jump off. I bagged my first 10 footer and nearly crashed into Aidan, who was not ideally positioned for the camera shot, on the landing. Unfortunately we subsequently lost that camera – one in a series of equipment fails by our other buddy Scott.

Before we ended the day we took the tram back up top to check out the infamous Corbet’s Couloir. Sight unseen Aidan had put his chances of skiing it at some point during the trip at 70% - I had my doubts and said it depended mostly on the snow and what the landing looked like. A short traverse from the tram station to the front of the peak - sort of opposite the direction that everyone else is going toward Rendezvous Bowl - takes you to the cornice that is the entrance into the couloir. What I saw when I got there was definitely steep, challenging, a little dangerous, but also really exciting and not as intimidating as I thought it would be. Maybe it’s because my confidence was high from a few smaller hucks earlier that day….

Corbet’s that afternoon (its condition and therefore difficulty changes a lot during the season we were told) was a frozen U-shaped hole in the side of the mountain that dropped pretty much straight down for 15 to 20 feet depending on where you jumped from, and then became a 40 degree (roughly?) slope that widened out. With a rock wall on the left, you’d have to make a right turn almost immediately upon landing, followed by a left turn –the other rock wall - before it widened out to a relatively tame apron. I wasn’t THAT worried about the initial drop (Aidan originally thought he’d be able to slide into the couloir, but really the only way in is to jump), but more with the first turn and all the speed that comes with that much air time. It was late in the day but fortunately we got to see one guy drop in. With tunes rocking (think he was sporting some Skull Candy under his hat), he sidestepped to the highest point of the cornice on the left, quickly spotted his landing and sent it. He landed sort of skis turned right, hip checked and skidded a while, regained his balance, made the left the turn, and was gone. It was clear he was one of the locals that laps it regularly. I stood at the top with my skis hanging over the edge, debating… Scott and a random dude had their cameras ready, as I searched for the best place from which to jump and thought about how to land. I felt I was ready, but ultimately I backed away thinking we could come back to it later in the trip. We skied down to the Mangy to cap off an epic day.

DAY 3 was total bluebird. For the first time since we’d been there we could see the whole resort as well as the valley. Jackson’s a big resort, but there’s also a big backcountry scene, and that became evident as we could see a long line of skiers hiking up the Headwall behind the gondola summit. We did a mini hike to an untouched line on Tensleep Bowl, but without any avy gear we skipped the Headwall and Casper Bowl – both hike-to areas within the resort. There also seems to be a bunch of named spots on the backside of Rendezvous and the surrounding peaks. I spent a chairlift ride with one grizzled local, who looked like he’d been in Jackson for 10 yrs, and learned a little more about the OB scene. Next time I’m in Jackson I definitely want to check these runs out.

DAY 4 we were treated to another 5 inches overnight according to the snow phone, but again it seemed totally understated in the trees off Thunder Quad. I was amazed how many laps through Paint Brush and Hoops Gap I got that were totally untouched and shin deep. It kept snowing throughout the day and I was pleased to be ending the trip with a powder day. Scott called it an early day, having been worked by his first taste of powder skiing on this trip, as well as tweaking his ankle at some point the day before. We suggested he pickup some trinkets in the village to remember the trip. Aidan and I skied some more and then headed to the tram for the last run of the day. Unfortunately when we made our way over to Corbet’s the conditions were much worse than two days before. The wind was blowing hard, sending snow off the mountain into the couloir and limiting visibility. I stepped up to the edge and peered in, but couldn’t see the landing. And it felt like any second the wind might push me into the couloir, in which case my ride would most certainly be over. Sadly I stepped back realizing it was too dangerous, and we headed into Rendezvous Bowl and down to the village.

When we got there the skies had cleared and après activities were underway, although more subdued since it was Monday. We grabbed a couple slices and PBR tall boys at the Village Café and soaked in the atmosphere… a few dogs were running around and everyone seemed in high spirits and seemed to know each other. Aidan commented that the whole place, not only the café but Teton Village, reminded him of a fraternity. I agreed… definitely a place we need to come back to. While we had two powder days and one bluebird, we didn’t get hit with the really big storms that drop two feet at a time. Amazingly those came in the resort’s last week of business in early April; like Alta, Jackson Hole has a set close date because it’s on national park land. Overall, I had an awesome four days in Jackson, and will definitely go back at some point… especially since Corbet’s and the J-Hole backcountry remain on the hit list.

Utah. Saturday, April 4th, 2009. A day that will live on forever (in my mind) as one of the best skiing days ever despite a tragic occurence involving one of my skis.  A Pacific storm cycle kept bringing new storms to the Wasatch starting around March 22nd (at which point Alta was reporting 455″ for the cumulative snow total).  On April 2nd, Alta reported a cumulative total of 576.5″ of snow for the season, or about 10 new feet of snow in two weeks.  On the morning of April 4th, Alta’s cumulative total was 615.5″.  That’s 3 1/4 feet new snow in 48 hours.

Friday, April 3rd, 2009.  I skied a half-day at Park City Mountain Resort, devouring the foot of pow that had fallen the night before and continued to fall as my boss Doug, coworker Mark, Mark’s fiance Liz and I lapped Scott’s Bowl and West Face of Jupiter Bowl.  Afterwards, sitting in Mark’s hot tub, he, Liz and I decided we, along with my buddy Mike, would try Snowbasin the following day, as it would be less busy on the weekend and we assumed it would reap the same benefits of the current storm cycle as had the Cottonwoods and Park City.

Saturday, April 4th, 2009.  We were wrong.  Snow reports for Snowbasin confirmed 0″ of new snow.  PCMR reported 9″ and Solitude 11″, and Alta reporting 17″ in the last 12 hours.  After texting with Mike we determined Solitude would be a good choice, as we could avoid the crowds but still get plenty of the deep stuff.  Mark and Liz (both PCMR season passholders) also decided to forgo the trip up to Ogden for Snowbasin, yet stay on the east side of the Wasatch Front and ski PCMR.  It was a choice they will regret for the rest of their lives.

As Mike and I drove down I-80 we discussed the pros and cons of the skiing Alta vs. Solitude.  Pros: Deeper pow, better knowledge of terrain, (marginally) better lift access.  Cons: crowds, gapers, and crowds of gapers (and the chance of an ES encounter).  As we got closer to Big Cottonwood we decided that Alta was on the menu and we had to order it.  After blowing past the 7-11 we were slowed only slightly at the light to turn to La Caille, surely a good sign given that it was 8:45AM on a powder Saturday when we should have been backed up all the way to Wasatch Boulevard.  As we neared the entrance to Little Cottonwood we noticed a guy hitchhiking and - thinking that we could use a karma-booster - told him to hop in.  Tom turned out to live just down the street from where we picked him up, and he worked at Snowbird as a ski instructor.  A nice guy, he kept the conversation going all the way up the canyon, which turned out to take quite a while as the roads were coated in snow and a steady line of SUVs carrying eager skiers and boarders blocked out path.  We dropped Tom off at Entry 2 and made our way up to Alta, pulling in to the parking lot (half full) at 9:15AM - just in time to see the first lift go up.

Mike and I quickly threw on our boots and made our way over to the shorter line at Wildcat.  As the lift carried us higher we could only gasp at the sights below.  There were no people coming down the mountain; all we could see were clouds of white froth barreling towards the base.  “How deep is that?” Mike asked.  “I’ve never seen it that deep.” I replied.  As we hopped off the lift it was all I could do to start chasing down the cat track back towards Wildcat Bowl and Westward Ho.  Folks, let me tell you:  IT WAS DEEP.  When I stopped, the snow was above my belly button.  I’m 6′0″ tall.  AND I was on my Volkl Kuros.  For those of you not aware, those are FAT skis.  We’re talking 132 underfoot and 164 in the shovel.  Going downhill I had to turn my head around to breathe, as I wasn’t getting face shots, but a continuous choking stream of super-light, super-epic, Utah-blower-powder.  It was unreal.

Mike and I next made our way to the Collins lift, taking the High-T all the way over to Stone Crusher where we were once again rewarded with fresh lines, having been left untouched by the those heading over to Lone Pine or High Rustler.  We continued our runs, sidestepping up High Race Course and dropping in to East Greeley and heading down to Greeley Hill, doing Gun Sight and dropping down to High Nowhere.  We were feeling good.

And then came the next run.  We decided to do Cheater’s Thirds and rewarded ourselves with a nice little 12 foot rock, Mike and I both nailing the landings, and as we sped off down Greeley Bowl we turned to head down Greeley Hill to the area commonly known as the Pillows.  I followed Mike around a corner, picking up speed as we kicked powder high into the air, and as I initiated a left turn down the slope I felt my left binding release and my ski fall off as I skidded forward on my right Kuro.  I finally lurched to a stop, standing up (sorry, no epic yard sale here folks), cursing as I looked around in hopes of catching a glimpse of my rogue Kuro.  No such luck.  I got out of my remaining binding and began swatting around for my ski.  After five minutes I called Mike, informing him of the unfortunate event and pleading for his help (normally there are no friends, no injuries, and no gear failures allowed on powder days).  Mike being an upstanding guy took Collins Lift up again and helped me search.  By now it had been a good 45 minutes of searching, and not wanting Mike to miss out on his powder day I implored him to ski on, but with one last request:  find me the number of The Ski Hunter.

That’s right, the Ski Hunter.  Actually his name is Matt.  I heard about him through Mike’s girlfriend, Jenn, and after searching for my ski for so long I decided it was time to call in a professional.  The Ski Hunter has a metal detector.  Note: On a powder day, a metal detector is vastly superior to swatting aroung with a ski pole.  Once Mike found the flyer (pictured above) in the ticket office, he relayed the number to me and I called.  Voicemail. Ugh.  So I left a detailed message and deciding it was fruitless to continue, clicked into my one remaining ski and began to ski down.  By the way, it’s really friggin’ hard to ski down in 3+ feet of powder with just one ski.  The only good thing is that falling over doesn’t hurt.  I digress; once I made it down to the run out my phone began to ring - UNKNOWN NUMBER.  Success!  The Ski Hunter was on the mountain and ready to help me out!  $150, cash or local check.  Done.  I called Mike and asked him two huge favors: 1) meet The Ski Hunter at the top of Collins Lift, and 2) take $150 out of his bank account because a) I lost my ATM card last weekend and did not yet have the replacement and only had $18 in my wallet, and b) I did not have my checkbook with me.  Mike, continuing to accumulate vast amounts of karma, did not hesitate to come to my rescue, and after hitting the ATM at the Gold Miner’s Daughter he diligently met up with The Ski Hunter and led him precisely to where I last had my ski.  The Ski Hunter then dismissed Mike and set about using his “proven search techniques and metal-detector.” As I watched from below, The Ski Hunter skied back and forth for fifteen minutes, finally coming to a stop behind a clump of trees that I remembered being at least 40 feet below where I came to a stop.  After moving around for a minute he came around the corner and stopped and set something down.  “Oh no” I thought, “he’s putting his metal detector away!”  Then my phone went off.  “Andy?  It’s Matt - I’ve got your Kuro.”  Queue the church choir singing.  It was seriously one of those “Hallelujah” moments when all seems right in the world.  I couldn’t see he was holding my ski because the bottom is all white.  I watched The Ski Hunter descend with a smile on my face.  I called Mike and told him to meet me at the base of Collins with the money.  Once I put my ski back on The Ski Hunter and I took the rope tow across to the Collins base.  Matt was nothing like I expected.  I expected to find a Dawg-like dude with dreads and tattoos.  Matt was actually a clean-cut, blond-haired guy that could’ve played the cool-underdog-protagonist in a 1980/90’s ski movie.  He also was a full-time Alta ski patroller, and even though Saturday was his day off, he answered his voicemail when it blinked on his phone (he had been on the lift on the way up when I first called and hence out of signal range, for which Alta is <in>famous) .  To top it all off, The Ski Hunter donates a portion of his $150 fee to the Alta Environmental Center - that helped me rationalize the growing cost of my quiver as my Kuros quickly approach their Manufacturers Suggested Retail Price (not quite there yet though!).

So now, $150 in debt to Mike and tired from all the slogging around looking for my ski, Mike and I decide it was a good time for a pitcher of beer.  We grabbed a pitcher of Cutthroat at the GMD along with some of their AMAZING chicken nachos.  A short 30 minutes later and we were back on Collins, but not without tightening my Marker Jester bindings up from the nine they were set at to eleven.  I had actually tried to tighten them before we started skiing that morning but the ski shops at the base are “not allowed” to let you borrow a screwdriver.  Idiots.  They could at least have pointed out that a screwdriver was attached to a signpost right next to the Collins Lift.  Thankfully The Ski Hunter pointed it out and I was back in business.  We finished the day with a few more runs off of Collins, heading down Eagle’s Nest a couple times and doing the Garbage Chute.  At the end of the day we retreated down to Snowbird to meet up with my roommate and some of his fellow Backcountry.com folks for some beers and, of course, tales of sickness.

Sunday, April 5th, 2009.  Despite my waking up still exhausted and sore from Saturday, my roommate Brian convinced me that we needed to return to Alta for mmore fresh lines, as Key Hole (which drops off right above WildCat and takes you down into Snowbird) was likely still amazing, and Ballroom and Devil’s Castle would be opening, AND a hike up Patsy Marley would assure us untouched lines and few crowds.  We actually only ended up doing Key Hole once and then boot-packed Patsy Marley (approximately 30 minutes of hiking), but we were rewarded with the most picture-perfect bluebird day of powder known to man.  Exhausted after our first hike, we took a break down at the GMD, finally deciding on another hike up Patsy Marley.  However, we got all the way out to the beacon check past Catherine’s area and our exhaustion/soreness got the best of us and we decided to ski down without hiking again.  It was still an epic day, as evidenced by the following photos.

Me devouring some fresh pow

Brian choking on the deep pow

Volkl Kuros love deep powder

Brian's under there somewhere

As the snow begins to soften and people can be found lounging outside on the sun decks in the warm afternoon sun, I can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and despair at the impending close of the ski season.  This year those feelings were quickly replaced by nervous energy and then semi-drunken courage as I donned an Lt. Jim Dangle costume (of Reno 911 fame) and gave my thighs a chance to get some sun at the 12th Annual Canyons Pond Skimming contest on March 28th.   Besides my cadre of Park City friends/fans, I was lucky enough to have Ben and Jenny in attendance thanks to their surprise visit.

Lt. Jim Dangle Pond Skimming at The Canyons

I’m honestly not sure why I wanted to pond skim.  I usually don’t seek to draw attention to myself, however, I do like to challenge myself to do new things and live life to its fullest, and I’m always a fan of bragging rights.  Of course, getting another use out of my halloween costume was nice too.   For whatever reason I did it, I was a nervous wreck the morning of pond skimming.  Ben wanting to check out MacDonald’s Bowl didn’t help either, because it took longer to get back to the event and I had to rush changing into my costume.  I ended up having plenty of time, but for a guy who hates being late and was ready to puke from nerves, I was none too happy.  Thankfully my fellow pond skimmers were a great bunch, from Nacho Libre (who was in character - and smashed - the entire time) to Saucer Boy, who shared a few shots of whiskey that calmed my nerves a bit.   When they finally reached my bib number (15) I was ready to go and focused on getting across the pond.  There would be no jumps or antics for me - I’m a wuss when it comes to being cold.  A few pushes with my poles and I let them go.   It was just me and my Kuros at that point.   I got into a tuck position and all I could do was hear the crowd and feel the cold air rushing against my bare legs.  I don’t even remember hitting the water - I only remember sliding up against the opposite end of the pond and triumphantly stepping up onto the snow.  Lt. Jim Dangle made it across without getting wet.  And thanks to Ben and Jenny (one team one dream!) we the pics to prove it, in addition to a sweet video someone posted on YouTube.  I’m on starting at 1:40.

Not gonna lie - it was actually pretty fun being dressed up all day - I have no idea how many pictures of me are floating around out there on the internet. At least 25 people had their pictures taken with me. It was also slightly disturbing considering several people commented that my shorts needed to be shorter and tighter.

Dangle and fans

Am I excited about Liftopia? Um, yeah, probably. No, scratch that, definitely! I have never really been able to convince myself to buy a ski pass for a full season, and I am constantly wondering why I can’t find better deals for skiing.

Here is the recent release from TechCrunch:
Liftopia is an innovative ticketing system for ski resorts that brings the variable pricing structure of online airline tickets to the ski slopes. Using the system, resorts can adjust the prices of their ski lift tickets to suit demand, with customers getting an average 33% discount. It’s a great idea, but one that had largely failed to take off until this year.

Liftopia launched back in October 2006 but was met with widespread skepticism from the industry, and had a hard time finding resorts that were willing to sign up. The company’s initial plan was to concentrate on the Tahoe market (given that it was closest to Silicon Valley the company hoped it would perhaps be more willing to try out the new system). But after the major resorts rejected the idea, Liftopia instead partnered with a handful of smaller ski lodges scattered across the country.

Since then, Liftopia has gradually been gaining momentum, growing to 35 resorts last season and reaching 85 partners this year. Resorts are drawn to the system because they can adjust their prices in real time to ensure a maximum yield, without impacting the standard prices they offer to customers who purchase tickets on the slope. Liftopia has seen 4x growth year over year in terms of gross bookings and has done nearly $2 million in sales this season (which still has around six weeks left to go).

Now some of the larger resorts are beginning to take notice: Liftopia recently announced that a number of major Tahoe resorts, including Alpine, Sierra-at-Tahoe, Mt. Rose, and Boreal, have signed on to participate. To entice these larger resorts, Co-founder Ron Schneidermann says that the company makes joining Liftopia as easy as possible, with no contract lock-in and the ability to discontinue the service whenever they’d like

Schneidermann acknowledges that Liftopia is still relatively small, with only around 5,000 visitors a day. But he’s optimistic about the company’s future, and it certainly seems on its way up. The obstacle now is to make ordering lift-tickets online as common as it is with airline tickets - and for 33% off, I doubt it will be too hard to convince people.

Here’s a more comprehensive list of the site’s largest resorts:

Park City, Utah
Snowbird, Utah
The Canyons, Utah
Copper Mountain, CO
Winter Park, CO
Durango, CO
Taos, NM
Sierra-at-Tahoe, Lake Tahoe
Alpine Meadows, Lake Tahoe
Mt. Rose, Lake Tahoe
Whiteface, NY
Sunday River, ME

Every region has its own vernacular or slang, and Gnarnia is no different, and while posting our lexicon was Jenny’s idea, I decided I would begin the transcription process. Add as you will, as I’m sure I’m missing some here. Some terms can also be found in the Urban Dictionary.

Cookie Meister \ˈku-kē ‘mīs-tər\ -noun.  shot of Jagermeister with a ball of chocolate chip cookie dough in it:  I love to drink Cookie Meister shots from the shot-ski!

Epic \’e-pik\ -adjective.  awesome, kickass, or otherwise positive. Can be used to refer to anything but is usually referring to a particular event or action: Yesterday was an epic powder day at the ‘bird.

Gaper \ˈgeɪ-pər\ -noun.  1) one who, regardless of skiing skill level, is clueless about their surroundings.  2) one whose ski wear consists of one-piece ski suits and/or rear-entry boots: Look at that gaper make huge and irregular turns on the cat track.

Giblet \ˈdʒib-lit\ -noun.  a young person found in ski towns or on the slopes who is annoying, brash, rude, and punkish.  They are often predisposed to snowboarding and found wearing steezy apparel:  If I find one more giblet stopped in the middle of Chicane I’m going to ram my ski down their throat.   

One team, one dream \wən tēm wən drēm\ -proverb.  indicates unity of a group and its goals, usually on a ski trip: Person 1: Let’s ski all day then après our faces off!  Person 2:  I’m down with that.  One team, one dream!

Send it \’send ət\  -verb, sent, sending.  to order, direct, or compel one to accomplish a goal or task, sometimes as an affirmative response:  I’m going to send it off that cornice. 

Steez \’stēz\ -adjective, steezy, steeziness.  style with ease, usually referring to apparel or park-rat tricks, that is impressive or outlandish:  Ben’s orange hoody is way steezy.

Taking a low temp \’tāk-ing ei lō tεmp\ -verb.  expression used to indicate the act of being cold:  I’m taking a low temp sitting on this lift.  NOTE: “low temp” can be replaced with “high temp” to indicate heat.  However, please avoid overuse of “Taking a…” as Ben has done.

Tracked out \ˈtrakt aut\ -adjective.  skied-off or far from pristine condition: I wouldn’t go near that Deer Valley cougar; she’s totally tracked out.

Yo \yō\ -noun. synonym for Giblet.

I’ve had an epic January. First I cruised down to Utah for four quick days. It was soft snow when I got there, and we were lucky enough to be slammed with 20 inches of fresh and free refills all day on the second-to-last day of my trip. I’d say it was my best day ever, but a friend of mine told me I overuse that line, after racking up so many pow days in my long skiing life. So it was one of the best days ever.

I raced back to the Northwest, with a stopover in Portland because I-5 was flooded and all the Washington passes were closed, and collected two friends and headed for BC. We went to meet four more for a week in Whistler. While the snow was disappointing, it was one massive weeklong party session, hitting the ShotSki every night, enjoying Kokanee and Molson in the hot tub, rocking out to Rockband whenever we weren’t on the slopes, and plenty of miniature Feats of Strength to leave us with wonderful memories.

I returned from Whistler on the Sunday of MLK weekend, and Friday of that week I had a final interview for a design job, and was offered the position at Noon. By 6pm, I had a flight booked to Utah for a quick Park City/Snowbird weekend. By 6:51pm I had collected my skis from their tuning sesh at Evo. And at 6am the following morning, I was on Delta 1260 bound for SLC.

The weekend was spectacular. The Canyons had new snow on Saturday and we had some great laps on 9990. We had a 10+ inch/free refills day at The Bird on Sunday. We were on Gadzoom at 10:30am and our only stop was a 5 minute Odwalla Bar break at the tramtop warming hut. We spent the day alternating between Mineral Basin and Wilbere Bowl, with a few tree runs off Gad 2. Andy, Ben and I were on the last tram of the day, feeling woozy from the lack of nourishment and sleep, but so psyched for our last lap down Wilbere.

I’m a die hard Volkl girl. My little (yes, little at 161cm!) Volkl Karmas have served me well, even serving as the inspiration for my handle (Karmageddon). I’ve skied Killington, Jay Peak, The Bird, The Canyons, Crystal, and Heavenly with them. However, I am in the market for a fatter ski for those epic Utah days. I’ve been searching for a shop that demos the Kikus, and have also been eying a possible switch over to K2 to snatch up the Missbehaved or Obsethed. I had recently began to wonder if I could handle the Kuro’s anywhere near as spectacularly as Ingrid.

So while cruising through The Lift House on the way to The Bird on Sunday I made a spontaneous decision to demo the Line Pandora’s, a ski I’ve been curious about since reading in Powder that they’re the fattest women’s ski on the market. I’ve never been a believer in women-specific skis, and I know I’m a strong enough skier to rock a typical stiff ski. But the industry is finally realizing there are chicks that rip (thanks to Ingrid, Sarah, Lindsay and the other ladies of skiing that I look up to) and making more than the Attivas and all the other lameass weak softy skis they have always made for women.

Sunday was dreamy in part because of my Pandora’s. They just wanna have fun, and being a girl that just wants to have fun, well it was the perfect match. They bound down the mountain and bounce around, floating through powder and giving me a confidence I’ve never felt before. Midway through the day I was, I’m sure, offending my little Karmas, missing the pow day by hanging out in Andy’s roof rack, by declaring: “I think I’m in love!”

Monday started off well. Andy and I dropped Ben at the airport, I dropped Andy off at work, and arrived to a most beautiful fog lifting/snowy sparkles in the air/sun appearing over the mountains morning at The Bird. I wasn’t gonna charge it like I had on Sunday, but I was going to have a lovely solo ski day.

The tram line was a nightmare, but I landed behind a few Black Diamond reps from Seattle and we hit it off so I joined them for the morning. The first half of the day was one of those perfectly timed experiences. We were three chairs from the top on Little Cloud, admiring the sun hiding in the fog and getting psyched to check out Mineral Basin when they dropped the line on Road To Provo. We lapped it, getting face shots and smiling the whole way. Next we went to see if Bookends was open. Still closed, but the traverse around to Powder Paradise was open and we hit it. Then they dropped the ropes to the area below Mineral Basin Express, an area that I avoid due to it always being skied out by gapers. But there was fresh lines to take and we took them.

I realized that one of the only areas of the mountain not yet open post-storm was Tiger Tail, and took the guys there to check it out. It was still closed and I was pretty worn out, so I said my goodbyes to head to Creekside for a quick rest and water break. As I made my way down I noticed one of the lower gates of Tiger Tail, Summer Road, was open. I ducked in, and in a few moments I somehow found myself hanging upside down, dangling from one ski that was stuck between a wall of snow and a tree. My other leg, ski-less, below me. I was doing the splits, upside down, hanging from a tree.

Surprisingly, I didn’t panic. I was of the attitude of “Oh look, Jenny’s gone and done something gaperish. Silly girl.” After a lot of maneuvering and awkwardness I popped myself out of the dangling ski and tumbled a couple feet down the steep slope. When I finally faced up the mountain, it took me many minutes to battle my way up to my ski.

I surveyed the situation. There was an outcropping of rocks, and just below them, a few trees with low hanging branches. Low enough that they were covered in 1-2 feet of ever so slightly packed snow. I had skied down the gap between the right side of the outcropping of rocks (had I been smart I would have hucked off the end of it instead of going to the left of it), and a tree, and something had gone dramatically wrong.

Then began the search for the other Pandora. Yes my friends, I was on the skis I had demo-ed the day before. It was incredibly hard to maneuver around the chute, and 25 minutes of searching from as high as I could get to far below proved fruitless. I snapped on my one ski and headed for the parking lot to slap on the Karmas. Thank you, Mt. Hood Summer Ski Camp, for teaching me the value of knowing how to ski on one ski.

Two loops through the area, digging, polling, searching from all directions, and no Pandora. I realized that the situation below the snow was not at all in my favor. Imagine 50 octopuses being buried under a loose foot of powder, and under said octopuses is a gaping void of about one and a half feet until the rock of the earth. That’s what I was searching through, and my best guess after all that searching was that the missing Pandora had made its way through the octopuses and was hanging out in limbo below.

With a half hour left of the day, I finally gave up. I was inspired by it being my final day to head out for one last tram run, but decided to hit Road to Provo and stay on that side of the resort. It was a long and tiresome last run due to being so worn out from the day before and from pawing the chute for the afternoon.

$550 later I’m the proud owner of one Pandora. The young shop tech was a little freaked as I began crying while he dismounted the binding. What can I say? It’s miserable when you take a cheap trip and in a few split seconds turn it into a really expensive one. And I’m a girl that can be tough on the mountain but not so much off it. I love the Pandora’s, but I wasn’t quite ready to throw the money down. The good news is that if the other is found, then I’ll be able to enjoy them. They were only skied on three days, and two of them were by me, so they’re practically brand new.

I guess all sorts of shit happens. Core shots happen. El Nino happens. ACL tears happen. And skis getting lost happens. Lets hope this story has a happy ending and that it won’t happen again to me in my ski lifetime!

The ski movies from this season have been pretty sick, and some friends and I have listed our top choices (with a description and a necessary YouTube video). My personal favorite is “Such is Life” (which has a great preview with a quality song), and Slamina has a pretty interesting Radiohead re-mix. The opening song for CLAIM has been in my head for like a week (It’s the F-I-N-A-L C-O-U-N-T-D-O-W-N!)… feel free to share any others you think are worth seeing. Wow, I want to be skiing right now.

Match Stick Productions: CLAIM, The Greatest Ski Movie Ever
MSP brings their award-winning approach to the table with “CLAIM,” this time poking fun at themselves and the industry as a whole. Highlights from the film include the introduction of 15-year-old phenom Sean Pettit, early season deep pow with Mark Abma, Matchstick’s return to Alaska over the course of four epic shoots, and a speed riding session from Chamonix, France – literally a synthesis of paragliding and skiing where skiers skip down sheer mountain faces with the aid of a small paraglider.



Rage Films: Such is Life
It takes the Earth 24 hours to rotate around its axis, 7 rotations in a week, and 365 spins to make a ski film. The making of a ski film is not a hobby for us, but a way of life. Our talented group of athletes train year round, work odd jobs, and dream throughout the off season of what the upcoming season will bring. In 2008, Rage Films witnessed an unbelievable year that was unsurpassed by others as Rage won award after award, including Best Core Film at X-Dance and Best Film at IF3.


Level 1: Turbo
Turbo will not give your car an extra power boost or shave seconds off your quarter mile- but it might, just might, change the way you think about skiing. Turning it up a notch once again Level 1 followed their crew of dedicated skiers throughout North America in the unforgettable season of 2008.


4 bi 9: Slamina
Whether it was late-night handrail missions, early-morning backcountry hikes, 10 hour road trips, waist deep pow, bluebird skies, 15 second breaks in the clouds, broken generators, or whatever else the 4 bi 9 crew came across we can guarantee that we did our best to capture the essence of it all; that is having a great time on and off the mountains with our friends. Featuring some of the top up and coming riders around during one of the snowiest seasons imaginable.

Teton Gravity Research: Under the Influence
This film is about the people, places and moments that define our riding. Follow the exploits of today’s top riders as they traverse the globe in search of the unique terrain and conditions that emerged from one of the deepest winters in recorded history.The Jackson Hole-based film crew scattered the planet as they filmed virgin spines in Alaska, cowboy park jumps at Grand Targhee, pillow popping deep in the Northwest, relentless powder in the Jackson Hole backcountry and so much more.

You may have noticed that this post is written by a new user. That’s right, I’ve been initiated into the clan, bitches! While I can explain my user name later, I would like to first state that I’m psyched to be on the base of Whistler, which might be the illest ski mountain I’ve seen in a while. Ben, Andy, J-Lost and I found ourselves in the trick park and were doing some killer grabs… er, not really, but the picture below is the closest I could find to my digs. More to come, especially once I figure out how to post YouTube videos on this piece.

Sometimes I feel just outright guilty at the extent to which I indulge my skiing passion. I arrived in Park City on January 2 for my near-month of skiing.  Eight days in Park City, followed by a week in Whistler-Blackcomb followed by another 9 days in Park City for Sundance.  The first week of skiing was nearly too good to be true.

When Andy picked me up at SLC Friday night it was already dumping, and the forecast was for clear skies and cold the next day, and so it delivered.  We woke early to see the storm clearing out over the rounded tree-lined peaks of The Canyons; deep blue skies were emerging from behind the last smoky remnants of the cold storm.  We were skiing with Jaime so we got to avoid the hectic powder-day crowds at the resort base area, kicking off our day from Jaime’s parent’s house on the mountain.  It was really wonderful to see them as they are always so wonderful and gracious to us.  We booted up in their ski-prep room and made our way down to the Tombstone lift.  Avalanche control was still going and lift wasn’t open so we got in line.  Some annoying d-bag from New York or New Jersey bombed into the lift area straight to the front of the line, nearly ruining the zen-like start to the day.  However we got first chair.  The top of Tombstone opens up above the treeline, and the sun shines magnificently on it in the morning.  The first turns were totally untracked, and the fresh powder sparkled radiently before our fat skis turned it violently into cold smoke.  We had several incredible runs before Tombstone got tracked out, and we made our way out to Peak 5 and Dreamcatcher as the lifts opened.

At 12:30 Andy and Jaime started to take low body temps and decided to go in for a rest.  I noticed that people were starting to line up for 9990’s opening so I set, what the hell, my legs are tired, my friends are going in, so why not wait it out.  Little did I (or the rest of the poor slobs waiting) know that it would eventually be 2 hours.  This wait deserves a bit of treatment.  As a preface, I’m a very strong believer in applying sunk-cost analysis to eeryday decisions.  Time, money, or effort already spent on something should not at all affect decisions going forward.  Usually I have no trouble with this, even in extreme situations such as easting the cost of a Whistler trip should the conditions in Utah prove better.  However, as I waiting in line longer and longer, the continued bombs, grumpy un-responsive patrollers lapping the lift, clueless bitter lifties, and other tell-tale signs that we wouldn’t shredding any time soon could’nt dissuade me from staying in line and giving up other great runs I could have been burning with my Lambda Chi Alpha brothers who were in town for New Years who I rarely get to see, let alone ski with, and who had no interest in spending any of their last day in Utah waiting on line.  I watched some people bail at different times, either because they were fed-up or had to go to work.

As an aside, waiting for a lift to open for avalanche control is a lot like waiting for a concert to start. The patrollers who make non-challant appearances before heading straight back up the lift after saying nothing are a lot like the roadies who come out and make some totally pointless adjustment to a wire or microphone stand, just to make it look like there is a legit reason the concert hasn’t started yet while the lead singer is backstage getting head.

I rode up the 2nd chair with a rather motely crue.  To my right was a normal skier who seemed very similar to me.  To my immediate left was an over-sized smoking park rat who claimed to be able to throw 540’s over 50 foot jumps.  I must say I was disinclined to believe him.  Maybe what he meant was that he’d sit in the terrain park, and throw 5 40’s (of PBR maybe) over the jump at snowboarders.  The interesting one was the guy to my far left who completed the quad.  When we were lined up before the opening of the lift, we only had 3 in our group.  However, this does not mean that any random single can jump in.  The proper ettiquette is that someone from a spot or two back in line who is skiing alone or doesn’t like his friends will jump up.  Instead, right as they were opening this grizzly old due swoops in under the rope.  If he wasn’t 200 years old I would have said something right away.  As it was I was pissed that I waited 2 hours and this old kodger doesn’t wait a second.  As soon as we get on the lift, still hollaring and building the stoke for the comming run, the guy pulls the safety bar down out of no where clocks the other three of us.  We all kind of groaned and expressed our indignation but I wasn’t going to let it go.  I said in a more confrontational tone that I usually apply with complete strangers “Dude, if you are going to cut the whole line, you don’t get to decide if we put the bar down.” Before he could finish is mumbled argument about how he entered as a legit single, the park-sloth to my left took up the fight and barrated the guy about the merrits of leaving the bar up. Enough of that…

The run was as incredible as I thought it would be.  I had the steep face skiers left of the left totall untracked except a few patrol cuts.  The snow was deep enough to feel bottomless on my chopsticks.  I skied with complete abandon, relishing the fact that I was Utah, doing what I wanted at a high level after my injury rehab.  From that point on, everything the rest of the week worked out beautifully.  My decision to wait for that epic run would prove to fill up the Karma tank for both the short term and the rest of the week.  I had three incredible runs with the guy to my right on the chair who even offered to drive me home if I didn’t find my buddies.  But after the 2nd run, Jon and Brad were at the base of the lift, and I got ski 2 more runs with them before the lift closed at 3:30.  We skied down the lower mountain, and headed back to their hot tub for a well-deserved soak and a feast at Loco Lizzard.

I won’t describe the rest of the week in as excrutiating detail, but Jenny arrived safely that night from Seattle. We seemed to hit every dropped rope and avalanche gate perfectly, hitting the North side of 9990 minutes after it opened for the season on Monday without really even trying to time it. The rest of the week we had tons of new snow, including a 20+ inch life-altering day at Snowbird on Tuesday.  We decided to risk being stranded overnight at Snowbird, not heading the road closer warning, being rewarded with 4 walk-on tram laps at the end of the day.  Those were likely the 4 best runs of my life.  Going up the tram for that last lap as the storm continued to pound the mountain, the energy of other skiers and riders was just incredible.  I felt as though I was at the center of the skiing universe.  Life felt simple and perfect.

Now I’m on the plane from Vancouver to Whistler, and all seems to be going well so far.  No fresh snow is in the forecast, but I know I’ll have an incredible week surrounded by some of my best friends in the world. And if our fortunes continue as they have, I suspect we’ll hit a few dropped ropes as Whistler digs itself out from the Avalanche danger of recent weeks.  This is indeed, the good life.

I was initially inspired to write about my first days on the Chopstick because my experience was completely the oppositve of several negative reveiws I read of the ski, and I’m glad I trusted Volkl despite the reports of not fun, difficult to turn and heavy.  I found the it to be the exact opposite.

I’m not going to go into detail about why I decided to jump on the reverse-camber band-wagon, or completely describe the characterstics of this particular ski.  Suffice it to say that the Volkl Chopstick is a fat powder ski, 128mm wide under the foot with a symmetrical rocker, and really original graphics, and that I decided it was time to give them a try.  Among all the reverse camber skis out there, I chose the Chopstick because like all Volkl skis, its a bit stiffer than the rest, and per the recommendation of a couple Volkl pros at the TGR premiere, I mounted the ski nearly dead center with Marker Jester bindings. That said, I can’t really compare it to any of the others, since this is the only one i’ve tried. So instead, I’ll just recount my experience with it during two full days at Snowbird.  The first day had plenty of soft snow left over from the storm the previous day, and lots of wind blown pockets, yet there was enough firm snow to test the ski in a variety of conditions.  The second day was a full-on Snowbird powder-fest.  A 3-6 inch forecast materialized into 10-14 inches depending on the slope.

Day 1

As soon as I clicked in and paddled over to the Gadzoom lift from my prime parking spot, I knew this was going to be a different experience . The first turns, if you can call them that, were on a groomed blue run.  It was incredibly difficult to get the skis up on edge, and even when I did, the slightest bit of crud would catch the giant tips and squirrel them out of control.  After a while, I was able to get my balance and carve reasonably well, but it was incredibly tiring and not all that fun.  However, when I got to the top of Gad II, and headed for the trees I knew why everyone was raving about reverse camber.   The flotation made little 3-4 inche pockets between the trees and moguls feel bottomless.  The width along with the rise of the tip, enabled the ski to ride smoothly and confidently over all kinds of crud, powder, and even moguls.  To make the tree skiing even more fun the center mount and the rocker made the skis very easy to turn quickly for their size.  If I found myself going too fast, a quick smear turn atop a powder mogul dumped speed very easily.  Because it hadn’t snowed over night, I didn’t really find any open areas to linked together turns in untracked snow, but I did find some sparcely tracked steep areas in the clearings skier’s right of Gad II lift.  Once I found my forward balance over the center of the ski, and learned to trust that the rockered tip would float without having to lean back, I could bomb incredibly fast throug the broken powder, easily hopping on and off terrain features that while covered, still made the terrain more interesting in the early season snowpack.  Speaking of hopping, what suprised me the most about the Chopstick was the amount of pop hit had jumping off this and that, even hopping off rollers on groomed runs I got more boost than any other ski I’ve tried.  I also tried skiing switch in wind-blown powder on a groomer, and it was the most effortless switch skiing I’ve experienced.

Day 2

I really hoped I’d get a day like this during my early season trip, and Utah delivered.  Wilbere bowl is one of my favorite runs at Snowbird, and it gets tracked suprisingly slowly.  By the time I got there, it had maybe one or two tracks in it, but I basically had untracked powder for 700-800 or so vertical.  Wilbere probably had a good 12 inches, but I can’t be sure because I certainly did not hit the bottom.  Fast wide powder turns were almost like doing GS turns on a groomer.  I’m sure I have a long way to go learning to smear my turns, but I found that I could easily flare out the tails to control my speed and turn very precisely without having to dig too deep into the powder, which would usually happen even on my Gun LABs.  The Gad II trees were of course wonderful on these skis, and I started to experiment jumping off little lips and terrain features.  It took me a little while to figure out the best way to land.  I few times I had my weight a bit too far forward, and felt my self going over the bars, but the tips did not dive on me, and were very forgiving.  Toward the end of the day, the sun came out, providing great visibility in Little Cloud bowl.  Little Cloud bowl has about 2 foot vis in a storm day, so it doesn’t really get skied all that much until everying clears.  So when I got to the top at 3:00, there were tracks, but he snow was still soft and bombable.  This was maybe the most fun I had all day.  I could just point the skis down the fall line, making wide smooth turns, and felt more in control than I probably was.  I would say that the Chopstick handles all sorts of powder conditions as well or better than my Salomon Gun LABs, and the Guns will probably be kept in their holster except when I’m touring the backcountry.  This was probably one of my top 5 powder days, and I’m sure skiing the deep stuff will only get better as I learn the nuances of Pep and Pollard’s brand of powder skiing.

Oh, and did I mention that the skis came with their very own badass actual chopsticks?  I can’t wait to go to Chef Chang’s or Brown Sugar when I get back to Boston.

We spend a good bit of our fall taking in all the new ski films and extracting the best songs for pre-season training runs, and car mixes for trips to Helly Hansen and eventually driving to the mountains and blasting through our helmet speakers come winter.  We hear a song we like, and don’t hesitate to bring it into the fold of the skiing soundtrack for the year.  In general, this is a wonderful way to blend music with the many emotions of the skiing life.  However, shouldn’t some songs be left alone in their digital winter habitat?  It’s like finding a monkey in the jungle and thinking it will be just as cute and happy in your house.  It is very cute, but the next time you see one in the jungle, its not nearly as special…true story.  When you’ve listened to a song enough times outside the context of the film, it dilutes its significance in the film, and takes away one thing to look forward to in watching the movie.  Before iTunes, ipods, dvd audio ripper and skimoviemusic.com, I would put in ski films just to hear a couple songs on them that I liked because there was no other way to hear them.  Now I don’t need to do that.  I either have the songs I want on my iPod, laptop, or car mix.  Not that I don’t watch ski films (I watched four in a row last night during an almost all-nighter for work), but one important part of the experience has been significantly diminished.  So this year, I’m going to leave many of the best songs where they belong, but maybe bring them out on occasion for that epic Utah Powder day.

Since first writing this post I did have such an epic 10-14 inch Utah powder day at Snowbird, and I was very happy to have several songs from recent ski films to keep me company on the 15 minute ride up Gad II and to give me a bit more energy on the way down.

Before making a home in NYC I spent one season living in South Lake Tahoe. I split my ski time between Kirkwood and Heavenly, and had countless spectacular days on the mountain. One perfect spring day, I ascended upper California on the Canyon lift, and discovered the High Roller Terrain Park to be overrun with what we non-park skiers call “Park Rats.” Baggy pants, oversized neon jackets, skull candy headphones and helmetless, they were all over the park and the California side like rats in a New York City kitchen.

After asking around I learned that these rats had descended upon South Lake Tahoe for South Shore Soldiers (SSS), a Park/Pipe/Freeride Spring Break Ski Camp that’s been operating at Heavenly for many years. While I liked to pretend that they were annoying because they spent their days banging themselves up in the park when I thought it’d be preferable to spend time riding the whole mountain and finding powder stashes, I was curious, and just a little envious as I watched campers learning the ins and outs of safely riding the park.

After nursing a jealousy throughout the 06/07 season that Ben was able to throw 3s in the park, I considered signing up for an 2008 Soldiers session. And so, just a few months shy of 30, I threw down $500 to become one of those rats and spend three days destroying my body. Ben & I recruited a few other “Soldiers” (Matt- epiclines, Sarah, and Scott), I secured time off from work for “Spring Break,” booked some deluxe rooms at the oh-so-glamorous Best Tahoe West, packed Costco-size bottles of Aleve, and descended upon South Lake Tahoe.

Scott, Matt, and Ben arrived for the proper start of camp and had orientation on Monday and their first park day on Tuesday. Sarah & I arrived late Tuesday night (I didn’t think the bosses at work would let me have yet another full week off for skiing after Utah in January, so I worked a short week), the boys picked us up and we beelined for some of the best late night West Coast grub: In-N-Out. We crashed for a few hours of precious sleep before our first proper day together.

WEDNESDAY / We woke up to what I consider to be an almost perfect spring ski day in Tahoe… bluebird skies, sparkly snow, and a little nip in the air with a promise of warm afternoon conditions. I love me some powder, but spring skiing is really a great way to wind down a season. I was a mix of emotions walking into the SSS HQs at the Cal Bar, but began to settle into a general feeling of psyched-ness upon meeting the one, the only, the amazing Rich Marlowe, our coach.

The unshaven, baggy sport jersey wearing, boyish-looking, 28-year-old Rich made his way to Tahoe a few years ago from Cleveland. He’s on the Heavenly freeride team, rocks the park with a specialty in rails, and spends his off-snow time spinning as a DJ (the one, the only, Dick Nasty) and most likely breaking hearts all around the lake. He’s conversational, positive, fun, knows his way around the park, is an enthusiastic and excellent coach, and was definitely our biggest believer. Check out Rich at:

http://www.skiheavenly.com/mountain/parks_pipes/team/rich_marlowe/

After booting up we headed to the on-snow bunker. Every year SSS has a park custom built into the High Roller Terrain Park under the Canyon lift on the California side. Halfway through the SSS park is the staging area where we barbecue around lunchtime, take our breaks and hits of Aleve, and watch the other campers doing sicko stuff through the park. The three big features in the private park were: A butter box (kicker over a 10-15 foot gap) to a long, raised “box” of snow that resembled a stick of butter, with a small lip off the other end to the runout), the road gap (raised bit of snow that stops suddenly at a perpendicular cat track, so you fly off the raised bit of snow, “gapping” the cat track, and land on the steep, groomed pitch below), and the most massive of massive kickers at the very end of camp, which has a super steep and long runout, and is right next to the chairlift, giving the Tahoe gapers a bit of a show.

Beyond the SSS Private Park, there’s Groove Park (the beginner’s park), Powderbowl Park (which we started calling Powderhood after Ben’s neighborhood in Park City), and the public part of High Roller Park.

Rich took us to Groove to warm up. Sarah & I started with the basics of proper kicker technique: a firm, wide stance as you work up the tranny, an ollie, or pop, off the lip, solid and balanced air with an optional safety grab, and a smooth landing.

Due to my age, an understanding of the bad things that can happen in a terrain park and my last experience in a terrain park (stitches from crashing in the halfpipe at Killington last season, look below for an entry on that), I was mighty nervous to get started. I calmed my nerves remembering that being coached on snow is not a new thing for me… years of ski racing and summer ski camps always presented scary challenges where I needed to have faith in my mentors and simply absorb their lessons and put them into practice.

I put my faith into Rich’s expertise, and quickly advanced to understanding the basic physics of working up the kicker, feeling comfortable soaring through the air, and dialing in a solid landing. By the end of the day I made it through all the kickers in Groove, 1 & 2 in Powderhood (Powderhood is one step up from Groove but not as big and badass as High Roller or the SSS private park). I managed to avoid crashing at all, locked in some solid safety grabs and started working on my mute grabs. All in all, I was on a high when we made our way down, all in one piece, to the Cal Bar at the end of the day.

After an early dins at Baja Fresh/Nap/Quickie Run/Shower/Aleve, it was time to pre-game. We christened the Shot-Ski to its first Tahoe experience and headed to the Tudor Pub to hear Rich spin and have some cocktails, practice our card tricks, and talk about our epic day with the other campers and coaches. Ben & Sarah went too big during pre-gaming and had to leave early, and a few hours later Scott kind-of got in a fight so the rest of us headed back to the good old BTW.

THURSDAY / We were moving slowly Thursday morning. I rallied the troops with some caffienation and eggy sandwich goodness from Alpen Sierra and we set up for another sun-kissed spring day in the parks. My hit list for the day was a little aggressive: I wanted to attempt a 3 (360º spin in the air), hit both #3 in Powderhood and either #1 or #2 in High Roller, and improve my mute grab. After some solid warm-ups through Groove, I asked Rich if he thought I was ready for a 3. He said I had the airtime and that I should go for it. On my first attempt I made it all the way around, landed on my feet but slid out. I can’t tell you how happy I was! Same thing happened on the second, but it already began to feel more comfortable. The form had a ways to go, but I was certainly proud of the start.

The day flew by. After my 3s in Groove I was feeling confident and ready to attack my other targets on the hit list. In Powderhood I went for bigger air and dialed in my safety and mute grabs, slowly improving my mutes and finally building up the courage to hit #3. I also started to understand how my body processes the park. My first attempts leave me with the general feeling of being in a car crash. Then, through repetition and practice, the discomfort moves to comfort, and then onto actually enjoying the experience and having fun. I then realize I’m ready to step it up and try something new.

The group decided to split in the afternoon because Sarah and Matt wanted to go back to Groove to work on their hit lists, but Ben & I wanted to stay in High Roller and Powderhood. Rich set us up with coaches Nick and Kenyon for the afternoon. Note: These kids are in high school. No joke. Almost-30-year-old me was being coached by some high schoolers. If there was ever proof that I’m living some sort of Peter Pan lifestyle, it was this.

After locking #3 in Powderhood, I set my sights on #1 in High Roller, looking back, my biggest challenge of camp. It took me five painful attempts to dial it in.

So the jumps in High roller, for a little, meek park rat like me, are big and scary. The tranny is long and neverending. The deck is big and just looking at it makes one cringe thinking of the pain that would ensue upon casing or knuckling. Rich spent considerable time explaining that, if you’re nervous and trying a new jump, it’s probably better to go big rather than go small. Why? Because the kickers in High Roller are so big that I would never overshoot. But if I’d undershoot, I would wreck myself on the knuckle or deck. And that is much more painful than making a solid landing and skiing out or at least crashing on a downward slope.

So here we go: Karmageddon’s Five Attempts to Nailing #1 in High Roller…

/1/ Ben was up at the top, and I nervously took off. I fully absorbed Rich’s advice, and went…. Enormous. I went flying up the tranny, to the great unkown of the edge. I cannot explain to you how scary it is working up a wall of snow with just sky above you. I ollied, and did not simply clear the deck. I soared beyond it. I marveled at the runout below. I overshot in a major way, and to Nick’s show, slammed into the runout just below the top half of it and went rocketing, on my butt and back, at an ungodly speed, toward the pinetrees on the side of the run. I prepared for the impact, thinking that this was going to be the end of not only my Soldiers week, but my ski season, but managed to stop before the trees. Shaking with adrenaline, I made my way to the lift… ready for more!

/2/ Nick advised me to take one or two nice GS turns before the heart of the tranny. Snow can change through the day, and the tranny was running fast this afternoon. Hoping to ollie and hit the landing in control, with not too much air, I pulled what I am calling the “Double Ejection Slip-n-Slide.” I went up, and came down right on the edge of the knuckle, but my skis stayed right there, nicely and neatly sitting side by side on the knuckle, and I went flying down the runout on my belly, just like we did when we were kids racing down the Slip-N-Slide! My chest ached with pain at the impact and slide, but I got up laughing hysterically at what had happened. It was a good show for all spectators and the chairlift!

/3 and 4/ Two more painful knuckles. The skis were far enough beyond the knuckle that they stayed on, but the impacts were definitely taking a toll on my knees.

/5/ And finally, my moment of glory. One GS turn, a nice, balance, powerful ollie, and I flew over the deck and landed just perfectly on the runout.

I made a few more runs through High Roller, on a high and hitting #1, each time reaching down for a safety or a rough mute. We returned to camp triumphant, but the other soldiers were in a sad state. Scott was experiencing serious toe-bang and not feeling well, and Matt, in his attempt to nail a 3, had his leg twisted around in his boot and was barely able to put weight on his leg. We slowly made our way back to Gunbarrel, and Ben & I, as though our bodies had not taken enough of a beating, skied one terrible run down the face.

FRIDAY / Friday morning Ben, Sarah & I sent Matt and Scott to the emergency room so Matt could figure out what was wrong with his leg, then we headed to Cal Bar for our last day of camp. Sadly, Rich had to work that day. So we had Martin, a high schooler from South Lake Tahoe High, as our coach. For all the talking and enthusiasm that exudes from Rich, Martin radiates a quieter, more laid-back style. At first I was nervous that Martin wouldn’t give me the direction and feedback that my Type-A personality (yes, even in the terrain park) demands, but I soon realized that Martin is just as on top of coaching as is Rich.

Ben & I were on our own for the morning since Sarah had a conference call, so we only did a few runs through Groove since that park is simply too small for Ben. I locked in a few 3’s, and decided that my two goals for the day would be to dial in a solid mute grab and attempt a 3 on one of the bigger jumps to be found in Powderhood.

I spent most of the remainder of my last camp day slamming my butt painfully into the rear area of my bindings. When I ollied and went for a mute, instead of bringing my legs up under me, I was kicking them out to grab. This put me in the back seat each and every time for my landings. My knees, lower back and butt suffered as a result. Ben was locking in bigger and better 3s, throwing them solidly and easily in both Powderhood and High Roller, but his shin-bang was horrible after just a few runs, and he began to think he might have to quit early in the afternoon.

Since I was having trouble with my Mutes, Martin encouraged me to try Japan grabs. I quite enjoyed them… a Japan grab is where you take your hand and grab the inside of the opposite ski behind the back of the binding. It’s like a tricksy safety and looks cool in the air. The rest of the day consisted of locking in grabs, one attempt at a 3 off #1 in Powderbowl (I was too scared so only got about 250 around, even though I had the air. Ben decided to spend the last few runs of our day working on his photog skills and locked in some great shots of me and some of the other skiers.

The day wound down, and we soon found ourselves facing the last run on the last day of Soldiers. I was eager to hit #1 in High Roller once more and then head down to Powderhood for one last attempt at a 3 off #1. Ben skied down to #1 in High Roller, yelled over to Rich, who was working on the rails nearby to watch me (“Rich, watch Jenny. She’s going to do something cool!”), and signaled for me to hit it. I went in hot… SUPER hot. The snow was faster and the wind was in my favor, I ollied hard, went in for the Japan, made the grab, and just kept going… and going… I was overshooting in a major way. I had so much air that my body started tipping forward and I ended up smacking the snow with… my face.

I got up to Rich running over with my other ski. I started to feel blood seeping from my nose. When Rich asked if I was okay, I smiled and asked if my teeth were bleeding, then said I felt okay and just wanted to head to the camp for a quick rest.

Ben and I sailed into camp and I quickly popped off my skis and sat down. He started sharing what I had done with the camp leaders and other campers, and they were asking if I was okay. I felt a little shaken up, but generally felt fine.

Ben took a seat next to me, and after looking around and assessing the scene, I turned to him and asked: “Ben, where are we? What chairlift is that?” Mind you, not only have I been skiing at Heavenly almost every winter for 10 years, it was, for one season, my home mountain. And all of a sudden I didn’t know where I was?

Yes, dear readers, it was a concussion. They started asking me to remember numbers and names, all of which proved difficult. But after only a short while I was able to remember their numbers and names, and I was popping on my skis for a shaky ride down to Gunbarrel. I walked away with a sore head, a puffy and cut right cheek and eye, a sore and slightly bruised wrist, and a yellow and bruised left elbow.

We made it home to discover Scott incredibly sick (with what he thought was Strep) and Matt in possession of crutches with the diagnosis of having a severe bone bruise. Matt, Sarah, Ben & I rallied for the famed SSS Awards Ceremony and Mechanical Bull Night. I am excited to say that I shared the “most improved” for our group with Ben. For this title I won some super cool schwag, which I sported the following freeskiing day. Rich had some very nice words for his elderly group, and I stood up and complimented the Soldiers camp (For the record, my days as a soldier were enough to prove to me that the camp is excellent… I highly recommend it!). We stuck around the party for a little while, then made our way back to BTW, our old, weary bones ready for a good sleep.

As you might note, it’s been a few months since Soldiers. Those first two weeks back in New York, I sought out any opportunity to show off my bruises and cuts, to eagerly share a few sentences about how badass we were, and, in the comfort of my desk chair and studio, nurse my hurt and broken body. I finished reading Anthony Bourdain’s “Kitchen Confidential,” a book about his rise to celeb chef status in cutthroat NYC kitchens through the 80s and 90s, and found a sentence, written about being a chef, that I thought applied to one of the reasons I love skiing, and more specifically, why I love at least pretending to be a park rat: “I’m asked a lot what the best thing about cooking for a living is. And it’s this: to be a part of a subculture. To be part of a historical continuum, a secret society with its own language and customs.”

I’m not thinking every day about Soldiers anymore. But when a memory surfaces, or a word from the “park rat lexicon,” comes to mind, I always smile and IM Ben as quickly as possible to declare: “I miss Soldiers.” I was dead-set on returning next year, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t know if my bank account or my body can handle much more of what I occasionally view (in my aging years) as an immature pursuit of recklessness. Clearly I’ll never be a park or ski movie star, so why am I so eager to get to the park? I keep returning to Bourdain’s quote, and the simple fact that, when I reach that level of comfort with a trick or a jump it’s just plain exhilarating.

Lately my thoughts have turned to putting my mind, energy and finances toward more lifetime sustainable types of skiing, like backcountry and exploration of resorts I haven’t visited, and international ski travel. However, Ben & I share a certain weakness when it comes to skiing: We don’t know how to say no. And I am already mighty scared for when March 2009 rolls around. We might not be able to say no to one last battle with the South Shore Soldiers, on the trannys of High Roller Terrain Park in Heavenly, California.

A piece of ski gear most often overlooked is perhaps the most important. Without it the best ski resorts. backcountry areas and powder days are unreachable. The item in question is of course the ski car. Everyone has features they love: heated seats, an awesome rack system, a navigation system, a rockin stereo for pumping up in the parking lot, stickers showing all the places where the owner has skied, and perhaps others I am forgetting or haven’t considered. However, the defining feature of a ski car, whether it is a 1982 Ford pickup or a brand new Range Rover is that it must transport the skier and accompanying crew to the mountain reliably on any ski day. (No car that I found can make it up Little Cottonwood Canyon when the road is closed, though I’m sure Subaru is working on it.) For six ski seasons, my 2002 Subaru Impreza 2.5RS provided excellent sking transportation.

After an epic winter in Park City, I decided that both my car and I did not have to leave, and rather than putting another 2000 miles and extra wear and tear on her, it seemed the right time to sell the car to another worthy owner (or at least someone who would pay a fair price.) Four months of hard winter driving in Utah had left its mark on my car, so Andy was nice enough to help get it ready to be sold. After several hundred dollars worth of maintenance, and a good scrub on the inside she was ready to show. Not suprisingly, I had several responses to my Craigslist posting, and the first interested buyer offered nearly what I was asking. For privacy reasons, I won’t provide many details here, but suffice it to say that the buyer was very excited about the car, and will use it to ski Snowbird all next winter.

The first ski trip in my Impreza was a day trip to Killington, VT in October of 2002, yes October. Killington had received a freak early season storm, and I was eager to begin my post-college ski career. The conditions weren’t great, but we made it up and back safely. From that point on, my Subaru would become a fixture in weekend trips to ski houses in Killington, and never was any East Coast storm too much to prevent us from getting there. Curt and Jenny in particular appreciated the Subaru’s prowess at Killington, and they are among the very few who I’ve let drive it up there. I wanted to give each of them one of the license plates, but I learned today that I have to turn them into the Massachusetts RMV, unless I want to purjor myself and say I lost them. If you asked the Impreza what her favorite road at Kilington was, she’d likely respond with East Mountain Road, leading to the Bear Mountian base area: windy and steep with great views, perfect for blasting Billy Talent before a day of moguls and park.

Any accomplished skier, will say that a skier has not really skied until they have taken a trip out West. The same may also be said for ski cars. Though my Impreza had always done will shuttling us back and forth between Boston and Killington, I always wondered how it would do out West. Every time I’d land in an airport in Colorado, Utah, Tahoe or British Columbia, I wished my own ride would somehow be waiting for me instead of the slow shuttles and crappy rental cars. Spending a winter in Park City this year, we’d have our chance. She did quite well on the way out across the country, though the gas mileage wasn’t great with four pairs of skis on the rack. I also never had any trouble getting to the mountains for 83 days of skiing over the course of the winter.

However, my Subaru did not escape the winter unscathed. She sufferd two broken windows, one from a road pebble cracking the windshield, and a smahsed rear window from a drunken seasonal worker. I also blew a tire, likely on an I-80 pothole. In addition, there were a couple dicey situations that required pushing. Neither of these can be blamed on the car, rather my cheapness and/or laziness in not getting snow tires. The first incident occured on the steep road between Snowbird and Alta, on a weekend when two feet of snow fell in Little Cottonwood. With me and two passengers in the car, we got stuck on a steep part of the road. My two buddies pused admirably, but it wasn’t until the road crew came by dumping cinders that we found enough traction on the performance tires to make it up the hill. A second similar situation occured at Jaime’s parents’ house up on the mountain at the Canyons. They have a rather steep driveway, located at 7500 feet, and it receives a ton of snow. After skiing on a powder and stormy day, Joe and I returned to the car to find it quite snowed in. I had to push with everything I had to get it out of the driveway. Based on these two incidents, I made sure to warn the new owner to buy snow tires before attempting serious winter driving.

While I was very happy to have sold my car, it was not without a bit of sadness that I took her on our last skiing adventure to Snowbird for some unexpected Memorial Day weekend powder. Well, it wasn’t The Greatest Snow On Earth, but it was better than any snow I’d skied so late in the season, and I was happy for some last quality time with my car before selling it. It has been an awesome ride, and though my next ski car will probably have a faster engine, a nicer interior, and more overall features, I can’t imagine that it will rack up as many ski days or memories as did the Impreza RS.

The ultimate skiing experience, most often found memorialized in ski movies, is to be dropped off at the top of an exposed mountain peak by helicopter to ski thousands of vertical feet of untracked powder. From a single day of heli-skiing on glaciers and backcountry peaks near resorts such as Snowbird and Whistler for just south of a 1000 dollars a day, to week-long, exoctic and unthinkably expensive expeditions to remote areas of British Columbia, Alaska, and even the Himalays, several variants of this dream are made available to skiers willing to part with a Utah snow storm’s worth of cash. I knew that at some point I would make the investment in a heli trip, but under what circumstances I never really fathomed, or really dared to forsee. The trick was to find a balance between financial sensibility (being able afford the flight), and being young enough in my skiing prime to really kill it. After spending a winter in Utah, and working hard for my new startup company, the end of this season seemed to be the right time to reward myself.

I’d been talking about going heli-skiing for the latter half of the winter with my friend Sarah, who seemed foolish enough to drop the coin with me. Following a particularly frustrating afternoon of skiing at Snowbird, where there wasn’t enough powder to cover up the layer of hard crust left by a warming and cooling cycle, that was also cut short for both of us by equally frustrating conference calls, we needed something to cheer us up. So we decided, after our calls, to stop by the Wasatch Powderbird Guide heli skiing office in the Snowbird Center base lodge, and just see what was involved, nothing more. 20 minutes, and 900 dollars (each) later, we were booked to fly on my last weekend in Utah, March 30.

No potentially epic experience requires as much management of expectations as does heli-skiing. Health, weather, snow quality, terrain, guides, and other skiers, all have a huge impact on whether or not the day materializes into the best skiing of your life, or a dismal disappointment. The first three are more or less predictable, while the last three are quite unknown, especially for the first-timer. Each is worth addressing in some detail, even though I may have to digest a bit first (someone please get the Ali-g reference, lest I look like more of an idiot than him.)

Common sense would have the would-be heli-skier take it easy in the weeks leading up to a flight. Of course I would not follow such a course given that it was my last few weeks of my epic Utah winter. I managed to make it through a week of brutal jumps, hard impact landings, partial rotations, and whipeouts at South Shore Soldeirs camp in Lake Tahoe without incurring more than a minor concussion and some shin-bang. However, on the thursday before my sunday flight, I tweaked my right MCL quite badly on a pretty innocuous tree run with Jaime at the Canyons. I caught my ski in a poorly covered, but grabby mogul, and I felt it. Nothing popped, but when I gathered myself, I could feel a looseness in my knee that was quite frightening. I skied back to Jaime’s house at the Colony, where even those wonderful premises couldn’t cheer me up. I could put pressure on both edges, turning both ways, but I was still very uneasy. My knee hurt a lot, I could slip it out off place more easily than my left knee, and I was feeling kind of nauseaus. All I could think of was, did I end my season a week early, and more importantly, would I be able to heli-ski Sunday? After two days of rest, icing, an obscene amount of advil, and a few drinks, I skied at Snowbird on Sunday, and the Canyons on monday. I was able to ski aggressively, but with the thought ever in the back of my mind, what if I fall again? Would my knee go completely? Not thoughts I wanted during my dream day of skiing.

When I wasn’t sure whether I’d be healthy enough to ski Sunday, I was quite hoping we’d have clouds, wind, a snow storm or any weather preventing us from flying. If the birds can’t fly on your scheduled day, you can get a full refund. If they do fly, you are on the hook for it. As Sunday approached, it became clear that there would be a storm coming in and the next potentilly clear fly-day would be Tuesday. Sunday morning, we called WPG and they told us that we wouldn’t be skiing, no big suprised, but a releif as I had not yet tested my leg. At the very least, I wouldn’t be out 900 bucks for nothing. However, after skiing went suprisingly well on Sunday at Snowbird, I rebooked for Tuesday, as that appeared to be a clear day. The temperatures were unseasonably cold, and nearly 2 feet of snow feel in the days leading up to Tuesday. As of monday night, snow quality and weather appeared to be just perfect, and I went to sleep as excited as I was before a day at Greek Peak when I was 13, and Tuesday morning, at 6:30am, we got the call that went something like, “Good morning, this is Wasatch Powderbird Guides, today is a fly-day, we’ll see you at the heli-port at 8:00am”.

The unpredictables, of terrain, guides, and fellow skiers, were still unknown, as Sarah and I drove up Little Cottonwood Canyon on one of the most crisp mornings I could remember all season. In fact, it is these factors that had composed the lions’s share of reservation about heli-skiing. I was worried, that they’d bring us to terrain that was too tame to really enjoy because they were worried about our ability. I envisioned unbareable frustration at being placed in a group with a bunch of rich gapers who had to spend the whole day shredding powder in a pizza wedge or looking for their skis that had fallen off. And finally, I was fearful of guides who, for liability reasons, and maybe part of their own lameness, would have restrict where and how fast we could ski, and ruin the day trying to keep us in too tight of a group.

The day turned out to be fantastic, The snow was incredible; dry and bottomless. The runs were long, and definitely steep enough to enjoy. My second run started with a perfect cornice drop into a 35 degree steep, fairly wide shoot, that seemed to go on forever. This was probably one of my top two or three runs of the season. The other runs were also spectacular. I have to say that taking off in the helicopter and flying over the backcountry around Snowbird was the most incredible aspect of the day. When the helicopter drops you off at the top of a run (not quite a peak), everyone gets out in under a minute, and it takes off, blowing powder snow everwhere. And then it is gone, leaving you with nothing but thousands of vertical of untracked powder to ski.

Nevertheless, some level of each of the afforementioned trepidations came into play. The terrain was great, but by no means epic. The runs weren’t that much different than the backcountry I could easily access at the Canyons, or untracked runs I had at Snowbird simply by waking up a bit earlier than everyone else and/or knowing when the patrol would drop the avalanche gates. The runs were also by no means challenging. I’m a strong proponent of a run is as challenging or extreme as you make it (try bombinb backwards down a green run at PCMR with 1000 beginners on it), but I’d still hoped to feel the same feeling in my stomach I get standing at the top of a line in the Cirque at Snowbird. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, as my knee did not bother me once the entire day, though it did leave a bit of an empty feeling at the end of the day.

The other skiers in the group were uninspiring. They were nice enough, and relatively competent skiers, though mostly of the rich variety for whom dropping the cash for heli skiing was not a big deal, and they didn’t seem terribly appreciative of the experience. Nobody in the group was pushing one another to ski better, or charge harder or huck bigger. There was no real high-fiving or any collective stoke that I’d felt sharing Snowbird with my CK friends Jenny and Dlo, hiking the Canyons backcountry for the first times with Sarah, skiing the trees at the Canyons until last chair followed by three hour hot tub sessions at Jaime’s, or riding the High Roller Terrain Park at Heavenly with the Soldier’s crew; another empty feeling.

The guides seemed to be good skiers, but in my opinion, it’s the guide’s job to give everyone a fulfilling day, in addition to a safe day. While the guides were excellent at providing the later, they never asked what kind of terrain we liked to ski, or what terrain features or aspects we were interested in finding, or what each of us hoped to get out of the day. They claimed to be interested in finding us the best snow, but in several instances, we traversed down to areas that looked like not as good as runs that started higher up and were more wide open, without explanation of why something was unsafe, or why we chose the runs we did. Simply, that one was more north facing and had better snow. While I was appreciative of them finding the best snow, some steep aspects, with at least some dangerous terrain features would have made the day a bit more exhilerating. If I were to provide a close comparison of my guides to our badass coach Rich Marlowe at South Shore Soldiers, you might think we were taken heli skiing by Mr. Rogers. I know it is their job, above all, to keep everyone safe, but I was hoping for a bit more inspiration along the way.

If it seems as though I am complaining, I don’t really mean to. I knew each of these possibilities, and I was well prepared to accept them, since I knew my first heli-skiing day would be unfortgettable regardless, and that I would have unbelievable skiing of some sort. And I certainly did. I don’t take for granted the cold deep snow, the bluebird day, and my leg holding up miraculously well; I am eternally thankful to the snow gods for what they have provided. I am more attempting to explain the details and implications of heli-skiing out of a resort, and lead up to what I hope to do next winter. Nevertheless, when our day was sacked after four (of seven) runs by wind making the heli-pilot uneasy, I was not too disappointed to receive a healthy refund.

In my mind, I consider this refund a down-payment on my week-long heli trip to Tordrillo, Alaska, or Bella Coola, British Columbia where I will go with a crack-team of my best friends and passionate skiers, where hopefully the extra cost and inaccessibility to resort goers, will allow the guides to take us to terrain more resembling runs layed down by the likes of Seth Morrison and the late Doug Coombs. Invitations to follow…

There have been two notable ski season accessories that have required a little bit of Miss Karmageddon’s design prowess.

In the fall of 2007, after spending a crisp fall weekend with Ben and Matt in New York during which we got psyched for the upcoming ski season, I had a stroke of genius… all the skiing and partying we would be doing together required the ultimate ski party accessory: a Shot-Ski. I dedicated all my spare time for three weeks to construct it, giving myself a deadline of Ben’s imminent arrival in Utah as the ideal time to make the delivery.

So I picked up a free pair of Elans from some guy living on the Lower East Side, custom designed a topsheet that was a combination of kitchy ski illustration and type, and then built a prototype. I spent all of one Friday night printing, laying down and gluing the topsheet. From the prototype I figured out where I needed to adjust the thickness and sidecut of the topsheet, made some changes to the type and illustration layout, figured out exactly where I wanted the shot glasses, and changed my glue strategy. After my regular Saturday work shift at Williams-Sonoma I spent a few hours making the real Shot-Ski with the other ski. I let the topsheet/glue adhere for the remainder of the night, then sealed it with some acrylic spray.

A subway trip, reveal session at work (my über-cool work buddies didn’t really understand why I would dedicate umpteen hours to design some fancy way to take shots, so their über-cool factor went down a few points), trip to PostNet, and $50/FedEx charge later, the Shot-Ski was on its way to Utah. It didn’t see much action until Barna visited Ben in Utah, but it’s taken off like a loose ski sans brake on a groomed World Cup run, getting many-a-session started around Park City and in South Lake Tahoe.

Some pictures of the Shot-Ski will follow shortly.

Design project two… I never wanted a tattoo until two years ago, when I struck upon the only design I would want on my body that I thought I could be happy with for life… a snowflake. That might’ve been the cheesiest sentence you’ve ever read, but considering my passion for winter and our favorite wintertime activity, it clicked.

I finally had a little snowflake tattooed on my body on Monday, March 10. What’s prevented me from getting a tattoo earlier than now was my inability to carve out time to design it. I found Thomas, my artist, by commenting on a woman I passed in Barnes & Noble that had line art of a paisley print on her chest. Turns out Thomas works at NY Adorned with Stephanie Tamez, the artist that specializes in letterform tattoos and that was heavily featured in Ina Saltz’s book about typographic body art.

I knew I wanted extremely thin and subtle line art, on my lower left back. I spent about 5 hours playing around with various approaches, adding and subtracting elements to my snowflakes. Rebecca, my design partner in crime, also chose the one I liked as her favorite.

Rebecca has been reserving the “witness spot” for two years. She’s been my biggest supporter, she even bought me a clip art book of snowflakes so I could get the design juices flowing (and she bought it ages ago—it really has taken me forever to get my act together!). We had a great Italian dinner at Frank then went to my appointment. Her handiwork with the digital camera captured the action (below). Of course, I was in serious need of a couple of cocktails post-inking, and Ally, Jen and Hayley met us at 55 Rivington post-procedure to get a look at the art.

It’s 11pm and I’m in the middle of the Nevada desert in a Range Rover Sport with 5 pairs of skis on the roof. Where could I be going? Tahoe baby, Tahoe. Seven hours ago I was in Park City, UT packing afer a solid powder day at the Canyons. Yesterday we skied the goods at Snowbird. This may very well end up being the best 9 day vacation I’ve ever had.

Heading out of Salt Lake City we saw some pretty awesome landscapes. The Great Salt Lake itself was enormous and oddly void of any boats or marinas. Even more barren was the terrain that followed with miles of flat dirt and tumbleweeds but with mountains (most were actually not snow-capped) in the distance. When we reached the Bonneville Salt Flats we couldn’t resist pulling over and drving in. Not sure what was in that ground but clearly nothing will ever grow there. Crossing into Nevada it definitely looked like the moonscape people had described to us.

Despite being in the middle of nowhere, we couldn’t be more connected. I’m writing this from Ben’s laptop which is connected to the net through his blackberry. Both are connected to the Rover’s extra power sources. Other gadgets currently hooked up include a radar detector which is allowing us to cruise nicely at 85mph, and an ipod which is helping us to rock out as well as stay awake. Oh, we also had a viewing of Ski Porn an hour ago on the the laptop and sent the audio through the car’s stereo. Sarah, the owner of this fine vehicle also hooked us up on the grub, crafting some restaurant quality sandwiches in the back seat while Ben took his turn driving and I manned the ski movie/music selection.

We should be at our hotel in Reno in about a half hour according to the car’s trip computer, at which point we might be inclined to hit the tables and celebrate a solid weekend. But Sarah is catching a flight to Seattle at 7am (which is why we’re staying in Reno tonight) so maybe we’ll just call it a night, Ben and I are debating whether to hit Squaw or Heavenly tomorrow. Right now it’s looking like a game time decision. Should be the start of an awesome week though.

DISCLAIMER: I might totally destroy any and all karma I have cultivated this season by posting these, but I’m hoping that by implicating myself I can avoid any karmic repercussions.

This season four members of the CK West crowd have had their most epic yard sales happen at Snowbird. Ben briefly mentioned Jamie’s stupendous tree/chute/cliff roll in late February (which, admittedly, I did not see happen). What he failed to mention, however, is that the ‘bird managed to steal both of Jamie’s poles.

Score:
Bird 1 CK West 0

Fast forward to March 14th, an EPIC powder day the ‘bird. A leisurely bomb down an untracked Cirque resulted in yours truly unclipping and losing a ski on an approximately 45 degree pitch. Ben was already a good 70 yards ahead when he looked back to find me looking around for my ski. Five minutes past with no sign of the ski anywhere in the foot of powder. As I continued to look Ben went down the mountain to catch the tram back up and help me search. I was sure it would be found shortly and that we’d meet at the tram. Minutes (and numerous trams) passed as I searched in vain. Ben finally arrived back at Cirque 40 minutes later (after waiting for 3 tram cycles) to find me still ski-less and pissed-off. Thankfully within 5 minutes of Ben arriving I found my ski, under what looked like untouched powder, a good 8 feet below where I landed from the fall.

CK West 1 Bird 1

Snowbird on a powder day is phenomenal. Perhaps one of the best areas of Snowbird is Wilbere Bowl - it has a nice pitch, a lot of trees, and is reliably (at least in my experience) less tracked-out than other areas. Such a combination on a powder day can cause uncontrollable euphoria which usually leads to quick turns and high speeds. The only problem with Wilbere Bowl is that it bottoms out at a cat track, to which Ben can attest. You see, Ben found that cat track after bombing out of some trees and, upon compressing the landing, launched himself a good 20 feet down the mountain while his skis sailed a good 30-40 yards further down the mountain. Somehow Ben avoided seriously injuring himself AND he avoided hitting the people on the cat track. We’ll split the points on this one since he managed to recover his skis.

Bird 1.5 CK West 1.5

March 15. The next day found us back at the ‘bird with reinforcements in the form of Matt from the original CK and Sarah, who made her way over from Alta for a few runs. While Matt was waiting patiently for us to meet him at Creekside Cafe, Sarah, Ben and I were making our way down Tiger Tail. Sarah decided to explore skier’s right about 4/5’s the way down Tiger Tail and got herself stuck in an area with really tight trees and a pitch of about 60 degrees where side-stepping down was the only option. Unfortunately, Sarah lost her balance, the result of which was a nasty yard sale which required the attention of Ben and I to climb back up (a good 200 yards up a fairly steep hill) to help her find all her things. About half-way up it was decided that I should go keep Matt company while Ben helped Sarah find her gear. Fifty (50) minutes passed before they made it down to Creekside. And Sarah was down to one glove and one pole.

Bird 2.5 CK West 1.5

Same day. 4:05PM. Ben and I decided to take one last run on Tiger Tail again. Nowhere else (I imagine) can you find such amazing untracked powder at the end of the day on a Saturday. Ben suggested we find where Sarah went in and look for her pole and glove. I commented that the glove was probably still attached to the pole and that we’d find the pole up in a tree near where she fell. Lo and behold, that’s exactly what we found - her red Leki pole and Cloudveil glove adorning a pine tree like Christmas ornaments.

Score
Bird 2.5 CK West 2.5

It’s all tied up now. We’ll see what happens next time.

Having spent my entire skiing experience on the East coast, I’ve always wanted to get to Jay. I’d heard of their legendary snowfall totals, their sick natural terrain and tree skiing, but I never made it further north than Killington. A couple weeks before Thanksgiving we started hatching plans for a road trip that would get us three solid days and a condo on new year’s weekend.

Booking a trip a month in advance is always a bit of gamble as you could get screwed on the conditions, especially early in the season. Fortunately for us, this past December was one of the snowiest in years. By the time Christmas rolled around we knew we were money… Jay was 100% open with 150” of snowfall. With plans to spend New Year’s Eve at our Killington share house following 3 days and 2 nights at Jay, it was looking like it would be an epic trip.

The ride up to Jay Peak from Boston is about 4 hours, but we did it in 4 and a 1/2 due to some hairy conditions on 93N New Hampshire where the rain we left in Boston had turned to a “wintry mix”. Fortunately our two-car caravan of Audis (me in my A6 and Pat in his A4) were up to the challenge and we made no appearances in the median or guardrail. Thank god for the Quattro system… although driving at 45 mph on the highway is incredibly frustrating, I think we passed one major accident and two other cars that had spun off into the snow bank. After getting through Franconia Notch, we found ourselves in rural, way the F up there Vermont. I guess I’d say it was pretty scenic… lots of farmland, silos, and cow x-ing signs, but it became immediately clear that there was not much up there and we’d have to bring our own party.

DAY 1 / Saturday, December 29
Arriving at the base of the mountain was a little like stepping back in time. The white stucco buildings (lodge, tram, and Hotel Jay) seemed like they hadn’t had any work done on them since the early 80s. Kinda like an Austrian look I guess you could say… the other thing you notice is that everything is written in both English and French. I had heard that French Canadians flock to the mountain and it was definitely evident from the start. Makes sense with Canada only 5 miles away. The conditions that morning were not the Jay Peak we had heard about – it was in the mid 30s and raining. The snow was sticky and visibility up top was pretty bad due to low hanging clouds/fog. Still, we skied almost a full day (arrived at 10am) and checked into our condo, which we were psyched to find out was truly ski in/ski out.

I remember when I booked the ski/stay package on the phone with Jay’s reservation system; the girl said there wasn’t much nightlife. She was right. I think the bar at Hotel Jay was the only option, but we were happy to park ourselves in front of the fireplace, the Pat’s game, and a fridge full of beers.

DAY 2 / Sunday, December 30
The conditions improved the next day and we got to explore a lot more of the fabulous tree skiing Jay is known for. Timbuktu I think turned out to be my favorite glade as it had nice soft turns and the trees seemed to be spaced just right. Even in between the trails off the Jet triple, there were nice trees that could be skied. I had read about Jay’s policy… that you can ski anywhere, anything, at your own risk and was psyched to have the snow to do it. For a late December trip, we really couldn’t have asked for more. We skied through lunch, but after putting in an awesome morning and final tree run where Mike and I found the goods, we skied back to the condo for a quick mid-afternoon snack. Truly trailside was nice as we loaded up on some nachos before heading back out. One of Mike’s friends who’s got a share house up there, introduced us to Beaver Pond Glade (far skier’s left) that was a little hairy at the start but proved worth the side-step/hike up to the entry point.

That night we celebrated a solid day with another family dinner, followed by a few drinking games. We settled on “Shoulders” which if you’ve never played, involves memory skills, hand eye coordination, teamwork, and some creativity when new rules are to be invented. Needless to say hilarity ensued and we took the game to new heights, getting hammered and playing for probably two hours. Pat and Aidan also made an appearance in the snow banks out front doing snow angels in their bathing suits as punishment for losing the race on the bunny hill that afternoon. Jenny’s creation, “Feats of Strength” probably should get it’s own post as there has since been modified, more elaborate versions of the race done at Killington and other mountains since then. But essentially, she smoked Pat and Aidan down the hill and as victor got to choose their punishment. I officiated since I felt like working on my switch skiing instead of tucking down a bunny slope. Like everything else, the shot-gunning of beers and snow angel making were well documented on Pat’s camera.

DAY 3 / Monday, December 31
We knew it was snowing when we went to bed but we didn’t realize the treat that we’d wake up to. Six inches of fresh snow had accumulated on our condo’s back deck much to our surprise. I was embarrassed that we had slept till 8 and didn’t get out the door till 8:30 – a sinful act on a powder day. Jenny, Mike, and I hurried over to the tram base to get the first ride in the “box”, as it’s called up there (capacity 60 people – ½ the size of Snowbird’s). We didn’t get the first one, but we weren’t too late as there were still fresh tracks at the summit. To my amazement, Tuckerman’s chute (to the right off the tram) was untouched! We jumped in and realized what those sick days at Jay you hear about are really like. A narrow curving trail of shin deep powder is how you want to start the day. Jenny, who was the first one in, made the mistake of stopping halfway and I couldn’t resist plowing ahead and stealing her line - the conditions combined with the song I had playing in my helmet made the moment too good to pause. The rest of the morning was awesome as we experienced powder conditions rarely found in the east. Mike and I found lots of patches in the trees that were still untracked by mid-day. It was the perfect way to cap off an awesome three days.

The ride down to Killington (central VT) was pretty nice, lots of dairy farms again (mmm… cheese). I hear that in full daylight, or in the summer, Rt 100 is one of the most scenic in New England. We passed through Stowe, which seemed like a nice little ski town – somehow I still haven’t skied there – but no stops as we were on a mission to get back to CK (Camp Killington, our ski house) for the New Year’s festivities.

Overall I’d say that Jay definitely lived up to expectations in the snow quality and tree skiing areas. Some say that Jay is the Jackson of the east… It was definitely the best tree skiing experience I’ve ever had, and I’m sure now that it’s the best place to be in New England during a big storm. One thing though, is that it didn’t have the gnar factor I was expecting, I don’t remember seeing any cliffs… but I guess it’s possible I didn’t explore everything. Also, after three days I felt that I had skied pretty much all of it. Kinda seemed like it might feel small if you were up there for a full season. There is talk of an expansion though, happening in the next year or two. Either way, I’m penciling in a return next winter for another few days of sickness.

I’m not usually one to cave to peer pressure but when I was out with all my Park City friends who are far less techy than me and I was the only one without some sort of smart phone I knew it was time to upgrade. So yesterday I had a bit of time before going to snowbird with Sarah. I messaged Elias Torres to ask which one to get and then headed to the Sprint store. I’m now heading up to Alta blogging in the back seat of Sarah’s Range Rover. Sadly I don’t have abything great to report other than Jamie survived one of the worst crashes I have see involving trees and chutes and a small cliff. Also my friend Jason comes in tonight for a long visit.